Damage Control
by Left Eye Better
Summary: When the end of the Ratchet's natural life comes he's willing to accept it, however not everyone is so accepting, especially when there is another option.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Damage Control

Writer: Left_eye_better

Rating: M

Characters: Ratchet, Jazz, and ensemble

Summary: When the end of the Ratchet's natural life comes he's willing to accept it, however not everyone is so accepting, especially when there is another option.

Prompt(s): Ratchet/Jazz- Who do you think you are, and Ratchet/Jazz- Damage control

Warning: Spark sex

Word Count: 7213

Continuity: TFA

Author's Note: This story will be posted in five parts, each part with contain two sections. I figured it would be nicer to read in larger parts than smaller ones.

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Upon their arrival at the scene the humans backed away from the work, mostly to stand in awe of the abilities and sheer strength that the Autobots possessed. The team gathered around a large bridge support that had been knocked down in the final battle with Megatron. Each one of them found a hold and on Optimus's count they lifted the fallen pillar placing it on one of the humans' flatbed trucks. Bumblebee's hands slipped causing the weight on his section to drop first on the truck. A cloud of dust was created by the action causing the group to have to clear their air intakes by coughing.

Jazz raised his hand to fan the dust, "Hey Bee, next time give us Bots a bit of warnin' would ya." The black and white mech looked over at his yellow teammate with a grin to show he was kidding. After everything was said and done bureaucracy had kicked Jazz in the skidplate. His rank as an Elite Guard member had been striped, but all-in-all he actually felt more at peace with his current assignment than he had in vorns as part of the Elite Guards. Whenever he though about the change he had to resist looking down to the wingless Autobrand that now decorated his chest. The cyber-ninja looked to his fellow teammates taking in each of them. He could feel comfortable here… once he got over the whole ingrained fear of organics thing.

Optimus had gone to speak with the leader of the human work crew. A smirk tugged up the corner of Jazz's mouth. That kid of a leader was bound for something. The firetruck had taken a knee in order to speak with the human at a more tolerable height for the organic, and they spoke in common language no need to sound like businessmen or diplomats, just a leader of a maintenance team to a leader of a construction crew. Size or race no factor for their team leader. Jazz had seen the appraising look Ultra Magnus have given the young Prime as the blue and red mech had approached him to return the hammer. Cycling air the sports car mech tried not to laugh. Optimus had a lot ahead of him when he was called back to Cybertron.

Jazz dusted his hand off letting his attention move from their Prime to Bee and Bulkhead. Nothing new they were just two friends being friends. Bee had gone into reenacting a scene from some movie, and each time he switched between the characters he took a step to either the left or the right, and tried his best to mimic the voice tones. Watching them made Jazz miss the twins and part of him wished they had been reassigned as well to at least give them a chance to interact with younger mechs. The Elite Guard was no place for anyone young in spirit.

Speaking of old timers the cyber-ninja looked toward Ratchet. The old mech had taken he usual post beside the fire truck. Jazz watched from a distance. Nothing seemed to phase the red and white, organics, rust, the threat of deactivation, or the lack of recognition he'd received for his efforts in the Great War. Ratchet was tough as trithyllium steel. Jazz had read the files his rank had given him privilege to, and being in the Elite Guard had put him in contact with a lot of veterans from the War, or what was left of them. Each vorn there was less of the old timers. They were losing a great resource one mech, or femme at a time.

Ratchet's hand rubbed at the glass on his chest as if to soothe an ache. At the time Jazz had missed the motion or hadn't thought much of it. Much later when looking back it all started forming a nasty picture that Jazz couldn't ignore.

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Since their return to Earth their lives had seemed to fall into near relaxing pattern. They dealt with human villains as much as they had dealt with the remnants of the Decepticons. In between their duties protecting the city they assisted with the clean up and rebuilding process they kept their optics out for any possible shards of the AllSpark that may not have been recovered. Sometimes though on rare nights in the evening the game system was set aside, and the television turned off, Ratchet was pulled out of his lair and made to tell them stories from the war.

Jazz had initially felt this was something as a grown mech he shouldn't indulge in but when seeing that the rest of the team had settled around the makeshift couch with Ratchet the main focus of attention, he joined as well. Yoketron had done similar and it brought back a warmth to think of his time at the dojo. Times had certainly changed. The mech was different, and the story as well, but the feeling of camaraderie was present. Bee and Sari leaned against the large form of Bulkhead, while their Prime had pulled over an oil drum to use as a seat. The black and white mech had gracefully taken to the floor and leaned back against the couch, with an arm thrown back on the cushions bent. From this position him and Optimus could exchange skeptical glances, and smirks when the tales grew too tall for them to buy.

After a long bout of laughter that was induced from multiple exchanges of glances between the listeners, and some not-so-tactful questions about the validity of Ratchet's story due to how many concussion blasts he'd already mentioned he'd taken during the event he was recounting, the medic hissed in pain. He drew in air and cycled it out slowly. His hand had yet again moved to the glass on his front, nearly center because of the softer sensory pads on his fingers they made no sound as the rubbed the glass.

It was then Jazz noticed the motion. He looked to Optimus across from him to see which of them was going to speak first. The Prime had opened his mouth and had his vocalizer wired up to speak when the medic himself interjected. "Alright, I think that's done it for tonight." His free hand made a shooing motion at the small crowd. "I'm starting to ache just think about those concussion blasts." The medic stood and straightening his spinal struts causing they to realign with a popping sound. "Old models like me need to recharge, and defrag takes longer, so scram."

The fire truck mech shrugged at Jazz nothing he could do. It wasn't as though either of them were medics. It was probably just another age-related gripe. Something about the action stood out to the cyber-ninja. He couldn't place why but it left him with a nervous feeling. He watched the medic retreat to his bunk in the rough medbay, the door shutting behind the red and white mech. He looked down to the warehouse floor and his legs. Bee had woken Sari who had started to doze against Bulkhead's green side and they had left together to escort her home.

"You normally don't sit still so long, something up?" The young Prime's voice cut through Jazz's thoughts prompting him to check him chronometer. He looked up at the other mech. Optimus must have wandered away and returned to find he hadn't moved.

Standing up Jazz stretched lithely. "Nah, jus thinking. I've been known to do that time to time." The ninja shot one of his classic grins over his shoulder before proceeding to start the walk to his quarters.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to I'm here for you as I am for the rest of my team." Their leader meant well when he offered, but with how close their unit was the trim sports car mech had to wonder if any of crew would wish to bother their kind leader with their problems.

Jazz was starting to understand what might have attracted Prowl to stay and what may have given him the courage to do what had to be done. There was a Cybertronian Phrase that probably predated the Great War, 'A truly caring and compassionate leader can inspire sparks to shine their brightest.' Optimus managed to bring out the best. "Don't worry, OP. I'll tell ya if something important comes up." Jazz disappeared in the newly renovated area with a small wave. " 'Night."


	2. Chapter 2

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Longer recharge periods, forgetfulness, dim optics, slow reflexes, and the now familiar but worrying rub of white fingers against the clear glass, they were all signs he recognized. He'd never put them together before so completely but Jazz knew what they meant. "You're fading." The words came out of his mouth solemnly.

They were the only ones left at base. Jazz was supposed to be tending the monitors, and their newly deployed Sky Spy but some things, some people, were more important and took precedence. The medic whose back was turned to him froze. The old timer's gruff voice spoke, but the mech did not turn to look at the slimmer framed mech. "You don't know what you're talking about. You young bots think you know everything."

Jazz clenched his fists. He had no desire in his being to be violent toward the ambulance mech but Primus, did something in that phrase make his spark flare in anger. "I worked in the Elite Guard, Ratchet. While that might not be a good thing for provin' my intelligence, it does mean I'm not blind." He moved in closer to the red and white mech his had touching down on the elder's shoulder plating. "Why you keeping this from Boss-bot? That jus ain't sitting pretty with me."

A shuddering sigh escaped the medic. His already dim optics shuttered, and his tense shoulders lowered slightly. "Kid's got enough on his shoulders. It'd just shake him if he knew."

"Like it wouldn't shake him to find your grayed body one morning? Who do you think you are? You think he wouldn't want to know? You know him better than I do and I know he'd just blame himself, just like he does for Prowl!" Jazz didn't mean to raise his voice. When the old timers in the Elite Guard knew their time was coming it was a hushed matter. He'd seen many fade. They'd get progressively worse, and end up in the infirmary only to gray in their recharge cycle. It's what happened to Hot Spot Major and what happened to Windcharger, Gears, and poor Ol' Hound. Their stories, their knowledge was swept under the rug to tidy the past. Part of Jazz deeply missed Hound. The mech had halfway adopted him when he joined the Elite Guard after the destruction of the dojo, but it was just Hound's way to be friendly, and good natured.

"It's not as though there is much I can do about it. Not anything really and don't you raise your voice at me!" Ratchet grumbled and sidestepped away from Jazz to remove the hand from his shoulder before turning and facing Jazz directly. "Like I said Kid has enough to worry about. I don't want to be coddled the last days of my existence. I have calls to make, and things to settle and don't need an overly nosy Ninja butting into my business."

"I wouldn't be in your business if you had enough respect to at least tell 'em what's going on!" Jazz motioned at the door to the room as if the others were just outside it. "Ratch, what are they going to do without you?"

"Toughen up, hopefully. I'll contact the reassignment unit at HQ and get a medic sent out before then... might be fresh off the assembly line but I'm sure they'll find some mech. Pit, maybe the crew will get luck and get a femme transferred in." The medic was trying to defuse both his and Jazz's anger. "Getting me relied up isn't what I need right now Jazz. Age isn't what gets us; Stress is. Just let me be. I've been around too long haunting the place anyway. I knew this would happen. I'd wanted to be assigned somewhere peaceful, out of the way, and I got my wish." Ratchet turned back to the table. Picking up the wench he'd been using to tighten a nut on what looked like a grappling arm from their ship.

Taking in air and trying to follow the medic's example Jazz feel back into his normally cool facade. "Hey come on, I don' think any of the crew minds you haunting the place." He leaned against the edge of the worktable before shifting weight and moving to actually sit on the table. The sports car mech pulled one pede onto the worktable holding it there and he looked down to the floor. "Can you at least tell 'em? Give them sometime to accept it before it happens? I mean, I know that you don't want them ta fuss about it. It would be better coming from you 'cause I swear I'll tell them if you don't." Jazz looked at the red and white mech. His optics behind his visor locking in a challenge with the Medic's.

"It's not your place to tell them." Ratchet's voice was stern and his shoulders had squared off.

"It's not right for you ta just think you can jus fade out without... without..." Jazz looked away. "Aren't you..." The younger mech decided to just shut his vocalizer down and think before booting it back up.

Ratchet's hand clapped down on the ninja's shoulder and squeezed the plating gently. "Jazz, I know you're just trying to do the right thing. I appreciate it, I really do, but I'm tired. I've been around a long time. I've lost a lot of people close to me. In some ways knowing that I might see them again is a relief."

Jazz shook his helm. It was hard to believe that someone could be so accepting of the situation, that their days were limited. "There's nothing you can do? I jus gotta say, I don't feel it's your time ta go, Doc-bot"

The medic chuckled dryly letting his hand slip from the other's shoulder. "There is always something that can be done... I'm not in a position to ask that of anyone. That's a young bot's fix."

"I'm sure any of the mechs here would help you. Ratch, if there is something that can be done can you think of how Boss-bot's gonna feel knowing that he could have done something." The cyber-ninja looked to the other mech imploringly. His leg slipped from the table and he straightened his back.

"I'm not discussing this with you anymore. Tell Optimus if you want, but tell him I'm not discussing the matter with him any further than I am you." The medic tapped the wrench on the worktable before setting it down. "I'm going to go recharge for a bit."

The ambulance mech moved to leave the work area, but Jazz reached out and caught his wrist. "Recharge well, 'kay?" The likeable ninja quirked a small smile and he hoped not somber smile at the older mech when the other responded with a half spirited grumble.

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Sitting at the computer terminal in their ship Jazz slowly sifted through article after article in the medical database available through the stored information on the ship's hard drives. He slouched back in his seat and tapped the knuckle of his index finger against the space between his chin and his bottom lip before letting it rest there. They had not been allowed to return to Earth with Omega Supreme but been supplied with one of the many available replacements. Looking up at the screen he tried to think of something to do. The files hadn't turned up anything of use. He wasn't done with them yet but… time was limited. Ratchet was powering down more often, and harder to rouse from recharge. The times the medic was caught unaware and staring had increased as well.

It was speeding up. The symptoms had started like a boulder at the top of a hill gaining speed as it rolled on. Ratchet had said something could be done. Jazz knew he just had to find it. Files were failing him it was time to turn to his network. Although the cyber-ninja may have been removed from his form position, the friendships he'd made were not stripped away with his rank. With a few commcalls out he received some leads. The most promising one being a mech similar in age to Ratchet, that was a high level medic at the academy of sciences.

The first call seemed to have been screened and Jazz left a message but then changing the signal priority to one he'd used as a member of the Guard, he managed to get through. The screen before him changed from a standby display to a visual of the mech he'd been referred to. The mech was the standard red and white colors of a medic, and seemed to inspect him in return. The mech decided to introduce himself first most likely out of habit. "I'm First Aid, how may I assist?"

"First Aid, huh? I'm Jazz, Got a question that I was wondering if ya might have an answer for me." Jazz leaned forward in his seat allowing the computer's optic to catch him. There was no need to remain anonymous with this mech as he often did with other leads. The question he had was not one that was secure information to his knowledge but either way honesty on the part of both parties would certainly simplify things.

"I don't know how you got my frequency but usually it means whatever you got is serious, so shoot." The mech seemed to shift in his seat. A visor obscured most of his face but from the lines around the medic's mouth Jazz could deduce that the mech was used to smiling, and reassured himself of the other's willingness to assist with that idea.

"You know of a mech with the designation Ratchet?" Jazz tossed the question just to see what reaction he garnered for asking it.

The older mech's expression turned to that of the demure smile Jazz had imagined early at the name of his crewmate. Most of the old timers were familiar with each other whether from personal experience serving with the other or from word of vocalizer getting around. "Ratchet the Hatchet? Had the honor of serving with him on a few occasions during the later days of the war," It was obvious that the medic's attention was partially focused on a screen to the mech's left. "I'm surprised that codger's still around."

"Well about that…" Jazz had a feeling he was about to get his answer.

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	3. Chapter 3

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Jazz waited two weeks after finding his answer to tell Optimus while Ratchet had been out on a patrol. It had gone better than he'd expected in some aspects. The Prime had taken a couple steps backward putting a hand to find one of their make-do oil drum chairs. The red and blue mech flopped onto the seat and one of his hands covered his mouth. Jazz stood with his back struts aligned given him his full height in front of the fire truck mech. His hands were clenched.

They remained silent for a long time neither looking at the other. When Prime's voice finally returned to him it had a fear-laden quake to it. "How long do we have?" The hand didn't move nor did his optics change their focus to the mech he questioned.

"I… I don't know. First Aid said there really wasn' a way to tell without making him report in to HQ where they'd be able to monitor him. The normal procedure is to just… well, let them go." Unclenching his hands he rubbed them on his thighs to try to get the nervousness out of his system.

Optimus's helm hung and his hands smoothed his facial plating. "He was the first one of the crew to greet me. He didn't question why a Prime was going to be placed in charge of a maintenance crew, initially anyway and I didn't ask why a Great War Veteran that once held the rank of Major was assigned to a maintenance crew. Eventually we found out, though honestly… Earth was the best thing that happened to bring this team together. I couldn't imagine this team without Ratchet…" A quiet spark wrenching bark of a laugh escaped the truckformer's vocalizer. "Couldn't have imagined it without Prowl either." Optical cleaning fluid built up, tumbling slowly down his cheekplates when he shuttered them in retaliation.

"I'm sorry OP I should've told you as soon as I knew. I just not ready to give up on him yet and was kinda hoping he'd fess up at least to you. First Aid said there was way to help him, took me a while to get the answer out of him but…" Jazz shuffled his pedes and shifted his weight, glancing up at his Prime and noticing how intently the other's focus had become at a possible way to help Ratchet. "Before I mention this, I volunteer myself, but I might need your help convincing him." Cycling air the sports car mech continued. " A series of merges may assist to, well, give the Doc-bot's spark a jumpstart. 'Aid went onto say in some notable cases a full bond gone and doubled a bot's lifespan."

The young Prime's expression had shifted from one of loss to a struggle to attempt optimism. He knew they would have little chance get Ratchet to agree to the request. They had little right to pressure him to extend his life if he had no want to. "It's alright Jazz. I can understand why you'd be reluctant to tell me." Optimus looked down at his hands to steady his nerves before returning his gaze to the black and white mech. "Why are you volunteering? Not that I doubt your intentions but I does lead a 'bot to wonder…"

"Good question, my mech." Jazz said with a small laugh as Optimus took the time to rub his face once more to rid it of the traces of optical fluid. He crossed his arms before speaking again. "Honestly, I don' know. I jus know it's not his time. Not so close after we lost Prowl, not after he gained Arcee and Omega back. It's hard to explain but I jus know." One of his hands rubbed at the plating of his upper arm. "Ratch, well, I knew a lot of Old timers. They are a different model I tell ya. They aren't like mechs today. They don' roll along following orders just to get the rank they want. They earned everything, and if they didn't agree with something they didn't do it. Like the time with the Magnus Hammer. I have to respect a 'bot like that, Dig? Part of me wishes I was more like those Old timers and if I can get one to stick 'round a bit longer… just maybe I could learn something from 'im."

"I respect Ratchet, more than you know. He's gotten us out of a lot of tough scrapes, and has been more supportive of a 'bot to have in my crew than I deserved after what landed me in command of them." The red and blue mech stood. He extended his hand out to Jazz. "You have my support, but It's his support you're going to need."

Jazz gripped the Prime's forearm. "Yeh, have to say I don' think that's gonna be the easiest thing I've ever set out to do."

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It became obvious to Ratchet that word of his condition had reached Optimus when the shift schedule's usually agreed upon and set up week in advance changed without warning. As much as the medic didn't mind not having to do patrols and assisting in the clean up, the rest of his foreseeable existence being split between the medbay, and the monitors didn't exactly send a thrill up his transistors. He'd talk to Prime when the Kid showed up to explain the change. He leaned over the grappling arm he'd been refurbishing with the hopes of making the loaner ship they'd been supplied with not such a piece of scrap.

Jazz entered the medbay unnoticed, or more likely ignored. He moved to sit on the worktable next to the arm. "Hey, you still workin' on that thing. Though a Repairbot of your caliber would have had that done a while ago." A grumble was all that greeted the ninja's attempts to be friendly. In one hand he held a stylus and the other a datapad. He was a mech on a mission. "So I see you've noticed the schedule change?"

"The Kid is gonna have to show up and explain the fragging change to me eventually and when he does I'm gonna give him a piece of my processor." Ratchet snarled and was overly forceful in prying the plating from the mechanical arm causing it to skitter across the table's surface. The medic's hand smacked it down to the tabletop to keep it from falling off the edge.

"Actually he doesn't cause that's what I'm 'ere ta do. It was both mine and Optimus's idea." Jazz held up the blank datapad to illustrate as he was going to start his explanation of what exactly the plan was but Ratchet interrupted not looking up from his work.

"I should've figured you had no intention of letting me fade in peace. So what is it? I told you I wasn't going to talk with you about that anymore." The magnifying lens fell over his optic to allow him to take a look at the circuit board his uncovered.

"Well, Doc-bot, I'm not here to get ya to talk about the end of your life." The black and white mech pulled both his legs onto the table as to sit cross-legged.

"Oh, You're not are ya?" Ratchet shot him a skeptical look perceivable even with the lens covering one of his optics.

"Honest ta Primus." Jokingly Jazz raised the hand with the datapad and set the other holding the stylus loosely over his spark chamber. "Cross mah spark hope ta- errr" Ratchet's expression turned sour at the words and the ninja leaned away with an embarrassed chuckle. "Mah Bad. Guess I coulda phrased that better." Looking away then directing his gaze back and the medic Jazz continued. "I'm here to actually get of few of your stories down. It's not everyday you work with the mech responsible for ending the rampage of Cosmic Rust, who also took direct orders from Magnus during the war, and held the rank of Major because of his work on the Omega project." The ex-Elite Guard mech grinned as he finished his statement.

"I never told you any of that." Ratchet looked up at the other mech surprised.

"Well, now's your chance to." The sports car mech made himself comfortable on the table and pulled out a recording device from subspace then set it on the flat surface beside him. "None of us wanna hear about your death, Ratch. We just wanna hear about your life."

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	4. Chapter 4

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Ratchet had given up. Jazz was persistent as a Decepticon Hellhound and boy did he regret ever making that reference. He'd ended up having to explain with excruciating detail exactly what a Decepticon Hellhound was and the time someone had decided to see if they could be reprogrammed into something that could aid them which eventually lead to an attempt to capture one, and from that the worst case of evisceration Ratchet had ever had to repair… while the Hellhound's offlined carcass was still attached to the mech. Its fangs embedded deep enough in his patient to almost pierce the mech's spark chamber. Even in death it didn't release its prey.

Another story down, only a few thousands or so to go, Jazz smiled as he worked formatting previous tales in a more manageable format. "So the Bot made it?" Jazz turned away from the screen and looked over his shoulder at Ratchet.

"Yeah, Had to be practically overhauled but he made it. Ended up with a designation change from it too. Nice mech, friendly as could be, just a bit optimistic." Ratchet had moved onto working on a second and hoping more reliable version of Bumblebee's rockets. He wanted to leave the Pain-in-the-Aft with something to remember him by and hopefully something the youngster wouldn't wrap himself around a telephone pole with.

"Oh, so what was 'is name?" Jazz slung an arm over the back of one of the chairs Ratchet had taken the time to retrieve from their ship.

"After that?" Ratchet chuckled. "We'll just say the Hound incident seemed to stick."

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"Perceptor never did agree with the way I treated Omega like an actual 'bot, but that's comin' from a Bot screwy enough to delete his own emotional drives." The medic had moved on to working on a welding visor for Bulkhead. Too many times had he seen the clunkhead of a Bot lift an ill-fitting welder's mask to his face with one hand while the other was trying to hold both the part he was welding and the welding torch.

"He What?" Jazz fumbled the datapad he'd been holding as he leaned against the table next to Ratchet. The cyber-ninja's expression made Ratchet chuckle.

"Oh? Didn't know about that did ya? He's all logic and subroutines now, not too long after I'd been incorporated into the Omega project he also ditched he personality programming. A complete data dump, Poor Piece of Pirated Software." He ran a rivet though the strap and the hole in the full-face visor securing it. Ratchet tested the connection making sure it would move to allow the large mech to slip it on with little problem. "Part of me has to wonder if he didn't delete the emotional drives to get rid of the guilt he felt about the Omega projects habit of destroying the lives of anyone involved with it. He had a reputation of being a bit of an aloof, scatter point processored type of mech before getting dragged into the weapons engineers' side of the things."

"Wow, would've never known that… seems like the war changed a lot of things for Bots. You were a civilian, Ol' tinman Percy had a spark, and well, Magnus became Magnus." Jazz bent and scooped the datapad from the floor.

"I don't have much to say about our Magnus, only that I like the Prime he used to be better than the Magnus he is now." Ratchet used a bit more force installing the second rivet as he responded piquing the white and black mech's interest.

"Why? He seems like a fair enough Bot?" Jazz didn't put the tip of the stylus to the datapad respecting Ratchet's earlier statement.

"Some time after the Omega project ended and the Decepticons were exiled he stopped being the mech I was familiar with. I think after he'd taken command, and the war was won. He realized exactly how much had been lost. His view seemed to change from believing everything spark is priceless to If sacrificing one says us all, then it's what must be done." Ratchet set the mask down, and rubbed at his facial plating. "Burned a lot of bridged in my past, Jazz." His hand fell from his face. "I need to take a stasis nap. My helm's killin' me." Neither of them found anyone humor in that description. "Sorry."

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	5. Chapter 5

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Ratchet had taken to sitting down instead of standing at the worktable. Jazz had to prompt him by mentioning where he'd stopped speaking last to get the medic to continue with his story. "So you were sitting at Maccadam's?" The black and white mech's voice was quiet and had a certain undertone of gentleness to it. He was starting to hate himself for volunteering. Now he was witness to their medic's slow decline, unsure if the other would ever even let him help.

Even though Ratchet's hands were no longer steady enough to work on the last project he wished to complete, miscellaneous datapads, and parts sat on the table before him along with Prime's axe. Ratchet shook his helm and increased the power flowing to his optics to make them look brighter. "I was sitting at Maccadam's Oil house after finishing my shift at the academy of sciences repair bay. I believe I already told you how I ended up there. Lousy Council wanting to keep track of their Primus forsaken weapon."

The cyber-ninja nodded. The older mech had told him. Although the stories were out of order Jazz believed he had a good grasp of the timeline of Ratchet's life at this point, reminding himself that the Council of Cybertron had determined him too much of a threat to allow to wander due to the activation codes for their ultimate weapon still lurking in his processor. "Ya did, Doc-bot."

"Good, wouldn't want to have to repeat myself." The medic shot the sports car medic a smirk knowing they both saw the sad humor in that statement seeing that often times lately if Jazz did not stop him he would turn into an audio track on repeat. "Wheeljack came in and took the seat beside me and the bar. I don't know how much you know about Wheeljack but I'm glad they sent him instead of Perceptor to tell me." Ratchet's helm bobbed forward slightly, but he caught himself shaking it again before taking a drink of oil.

"Tell you what?" Jazz what actually sort of surprised this was getting into more current times. He had been around and working partially with the Jettwins under the watchful gaze of 'Jack and Percy. He wondered if he could pin point the day in his own memory files that Wheeljack was not present if provided with enough information.

"They were giving up on Omega. He'd been kept under lock and keycard in some science bunker since the end of the war when we had been separated after the incident that put Omega in deep stasis, and now after all this time they had decided since they couldn't do anything with him to at least get some use out of him as a ship. He was being transported to a local space dock… I hadn't thought I'd get to see my pal Omega again. I'd started my vocalizer to demand to be assigned to the crew and Wheeljack raised a hand and told me I already was. My first assignment was finish the repairs on Omega or what he reminded me, I needed to call Orion, and then be apart of a maintenance crew for some far flung gate. They expected it to be a 'peaceful assignment.' " Ratchet finished that with a mocking tone. His hand kneaded at the glass above his spark chamber. The ache was a constant now even in recharge, or even deeper stasis.

Jazz stood out of his seat leaving the datapad and stylus behind. It was now or never. Ratchet had no more secrets to hide from him or at least very few. Jazz had openly accepted any story Ratchet had supplied him about his life. The black and white mech took a couple steps closing the distance between himself and Ratchet. He leaned down one hand on the other's shoulder, and the other finding a place on top of Ratchet's own as if guarding it. His helm fit in the spot between the medic's helm and his shoulder panel. Without giving warning Jazz pressed his lips softly against the red metal of Ratchet's helm. "You're fading."

The medic's voice was terribly quiet as he responded. "I thought you didn't want to talk about that anymore."

"I don't. I wanna talk about you deciding ta stay with us. Just a little longer, Doc." Jazz tightened his hold on Ratchet's hand entwining their fingers. "I know what would have ta be done. I give my consent. I know more about you than the crew and whatever you learn about me from the merges I'll be fine with. I want ya to stay. Please." The cyber-ninja shuttered his optics as he made his plea. His spark field tested the waters pressing outward till it brushed against the weakening field that he knew to be Ratchet's.

The medic's optics brightened and he sat up slightly at the brush of their fields. He groaned shallowly and let the height of his helm drop. A mere brush of a healthy field had produced a reaction in him. A smirk dragged up one corner of his mouth and squeezed Jazz's fingers between his own. "I guess I could stand a few more stellarcycles…"

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It was a slow dance. Jazz had taken the lead, and Ratchet although unsure had followed. The act of merging was something along with bonding that had fallen out of favor after their culture had to endure hundreds of stellarcycles of war. Over time as a way to lessen the impact other forms of intimacy had be crafted by clever programmers, and builders. One of the more notable ones, binary bonding still existed as a cheap substitute for much more gratifying spark bonds. Too many mechs had watched a true bonded pair die, one mate than another. Too many mechs were afraid to doom the mech they loved to such a fate in turbulent times and many had decided to leave spark bonding for when peace had returned. Only it had never really came back.

Ratchet laid back on the flat plane of his single mech berth and could feel his spark pulse nervously. When it had been noticed that even a simple overlay of their spark fields had produced a positive result Jazz continued to project his field allowing it to flirt and casually brush against the medic's.

The ambulance mech knew what it was like to be on the cusp of death. He'd known it in battle, and now he knew it in peace. Initial when he'd learned what was happening Ratchet had easily accepted it but as time went on his resolve had been shaken. He was not brave enough to face death without a weapon in his hand. He did not see himself as a brave mech, although he'd been a vital cog in the machine that brought peace to his home. He had not accepted the role of hero that had been draped upon his shoulders like a victory garland when he had finally returned to his home after the war. He'd seen heroes, many, many dead heroes. He cycled air and moved over on the berth to allow the younger mech to move in beside him.

Jazz gracefully slipped onto the berth and pulled himself close to the other's form. If they were going to do what they had set out to the time for shyness had passed. He raised his hand and carefully traced the edge of the damaged tine of the medic's chevron. "Doc, ya don' have to do this. We can't make ya stay." Shuttering his optics and lowering the brightness of his visor to reflect that the cyber-ninja tapped he crest of his helm against the crest of Ratchet's and held it there. His hand left the tine to rest loosely on the back of the other helm, keeping the other close.

"I should be the one talkin' you out of this." He could feel the soft vibrations of the younger mech's engine against his plating as they lay on their sides facing one another. His hand smoothed the sleek plating of the sports car mech's side. "You know there was a time when mechs wouldn't have thought twice about this."

"Would it be entirely uncool of me to ask ya to forget the stardate and just go with the flow? Forget you're a hero for a klik." Jazz's lips brushed against Ratchet's.

The tension in the medic's frame was slowly giving way. Ratchet shuttered his optics, trying to remember a time he wouldn't be worried about what they were going to do as he pressed into the kiss. This wasn't about forgetting, but remembering. The red and white mech pulled his helm back and disengaged from the kiss. "I'm not a hero."

"Ya are in my optics." The words were said with certainty and Jazz wasn't surprised when he felt the coaxing nature of Ratchet's spark field tug on his in response to those few words.

It was a slow dance in which both partner both had to learn not to step on each other's pedes. Their hands moved mapping the details of their partner's frame, and their fields playfully tested each other. They were quiet. They had no need to be loud. When they did speak it was in comfortable whispers that seemed to tickle their audio sensors and seemed to spur them into heated action further.

Ratchet had never realized how used to hearing Jazz's chuckle he'd become. It was reassuring and as his chest plates parted to bare his spark chamber to the black and white mech Ratchet looked up at both the ceiling and the lithe mech that had moved onto top of him during the course of events. Jazz's chest plating had also folded away. They looked at one another.

"Ya know one merge ain't gonna fix ya." Jazz spoke as he investigated the open edge of the medic's chest compartment, his optical visor darker in hue.

"Just consider it damage control." Ratchet's hands had found their way to his partner's hips. He hadn't realized how much his own plating's sheen had suffered from the lack of necessary spark energy. He supposed it was a slow way of graying.

"Ready?" The cyberninja leaned over him placing their chest compartments flush as they could be with their armor retracted. Their fields surged against one another in their closeness. Wisps of their emotions traded hosts.

"Ready." They pulled the final barrier between their cores away. Bright light pored between the gaps in their armor. Tendrils of their life force reached for the other pulling them out of their housing units and closer to the temporary completion of a merge.

Their frames shook at the needy pleasure. Their fingers found places to clench at as they arched with a quiet medley of whimpers and gasps coming from their vocalizers. In the moment of the merge there wasn't two mechs. Their consciousness intertwined, memories, thoughts, and feeling both physical and spark driven were exchanged as well as the revitalizing spark energy.

The connection broke and their sparks retreated into their heated frames. They lay against each other, neither wishing to put distance between them, and both equally tired. Jazz's hand stroked lightly at the medic's collar armor while one of Ratchet's hands playfully slide over the black and white mech's aft plating. Jazz cleared his voice before speaking. "Lech"

Ratchet chuckled, "Little late to cry foul."


End file.
